Thursday, February 27, 2014

Doctrine vs. Ethics

The tenuous relationship between doctrine and ethics in the Christian faith has long demonstrated ambivalence. On the one hand, no good doctrine can be so purely abstract as to lack practical application; on the other hand, the prescription of specific habits in the physical world takes on, at some point, a degree of specificity which lacks the peculiarly general nature which is a mark of doctrine.

Theodore of Mopsuestia, who died around 428 A.D. and who was a friend of John Chrysostom, wrestled with theological abstractions, and yet did so in the concrete practice of his monastic life. John of Damascus wrote his abstract work, The Source of Knowledge, but wrote a concrete text, Sacred Parallels as a companion text to it; he died in 749. Peter Lombard wrote a medieval classic called the Sentences; in it, propositions of theological doctrine stand next to propositions of practical ethics; he died in 1164.

Despite impressive intellectual horsepower being devoted to integrating doctrine and ethics, strong forces were at work to separate them. The history of ideas, or the history of thought, is a tangled web; one interpretation sees humanism as a force which worked to separate doctrine from ethics. While this assertion is controversial, it has at least some plausibility. A scholar named Christian Callisen argues that Georg Calixtus (also known as George Calixtus) was in some sense an extension of humanism as it arose in the forms of Petrarch and Angelo Poliziano. Calixtus lived in Germany and died in 1656. According to Callisen,

The movement was characterized by the rediscovery and reconsideration of ancient texts - Latin, Greek, and Hebrew - within which was sought "the answer to all social, political, artistic, and ethical problems."

The quote marks indicate that Callisen used a phrase from a book by S. Harrison Thomson.

While Callisen's characterization of Renaissance humanism is a bit naive - he appears to accept uncritically the propaganda put forth by the Renaissance writers themselves, propaganda in which they claim to have "rediscovered" the heritage of Greco-Roman classicism, even though medieval thinkers had access to these texts - he nonetheless properly notes that some humanists hoped to offer solutions to a wide variety of questions, including ethical questions, but notably not listing doctrinal questions. If Calixtus is part of this Renaissance humanist movement, his theology may be one of the forces separating doctrine from ethics. Jaroslav Pelikan writes:

Already in the early centuries, Christian thinkers began to distinguish between that instruction which was intended “to make known the word concerning Christ, and the mystery regarding him” and that instruction which was intended “to point to the corrections of habits.” At least in part, the distinction was suggested by the procedure of the New Testament itself. Theodore of Mopsuestia noted that both in the Epistle to the Romans, and in that to the Ephesians, the Apostle Paul first set forth “dogmatic sermons,” defined as “sermons which contain the account of the coming of Christ, and indicate the blessing which he has conferred upon us by His coming,” and then went onto “ethical exhortation.” The great commission in Matthew 28:19 likewise was seen as a division of Christian discipline into two parts, “the ethical part and the precision of dogmas,” the former being contained in the commandments of Jesus, and the latter in the “tradition of baptism.” This meant that “the method of Godliness consists of these two things, pious doctrines and virtuous practice,” neither of which was acceptable to God without the other. Both forms of instruction belonged in the pulpit and in books about Christian teaching. The standard manual of doctrine in Greek Christianity, the Orthodox Faith of John of Damascus, discussed not only the Trinity and Christology, but also such matters as fear, anger, and the imagination. Its later counterpart in the Latin church, the Sentences of Peter Lombard, included in its third book a treatment of the virtues created by Grace. The two branches of theology were not permanently separated until the work of the seventeenth-century Protestant theologian, George Calixtus, but the distinction between doctrine and life had been in force long before that division of labor was effected.

The Christian faith certainly cannot be reduced, or seen as equivalent to, a moral code. Indeed, moral questions are secondary or peripheral to the core of faith. Yet Christianity does demand some ethic - and not merely any ethic. Jesus devoted effort to the discussion of ethical matters - even as He reminded His listeners that moral laws were not the core of His message. Christian doctrine may be seen as meta-ethical: setting not detailed moral precepts, but establishing a broader framework in which possibly several competing moral systems might be constructed, yet which also rules out other possible moral systems.

Beyond the 'what' of ethics, Jesus also addresses the 'why' - not merely what I ought to do, but what will motivate me to do it. Perhaps this is closer to the core of Christ's message - striving to be moral is, by itself, a nearly worthless activity. Human efforts at morality are useless and vain, and when most convincing are most dangerous. But divine inspiration to morality - when the effort is not a human one, but one driven by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit - is simultaneously a manifestation of God at work and an expression of gratitude toward God.

If a truly ethical act can only be the result of the Holy Spirit at work inside a human being, and can never be the result of a purely human effort, and if the only possible motive for such an act is the response of gratitude from a human being who has received unearned and unmerited grace as a freely-given gift, then we might begin to see how Hegel saw the universe as the process of God's self-knowledge.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

The Mind, the Heart, and the Hands

Approaching the topic of Christian doctrine, noted scholar Jaroslav Pelikan worked first to place doctrine within its larger context. Doctrine can be over- and underemphasized. Borrowing from a long tradition - Pelikan was a Lutheran for most of life, converting shortly before his death to Eastern Orthodoxy - he identifies doctrine as the content of the church's believing, teaching, and confessing. These beliefs, teachings, and confessions are based on the text of Scripture. In short, doctrine is the "what" of the church's written and spoken expressions.

It is worth noting that, according to Pelikan's definition, doctrine is corporate and not individual; it is the "we believe" and not the "I believe" - the usual texts of the Apostolic Creed and Nicene Creed begin with credo - "I believe" - but the Athanasian Creed includes a credamus - "we believe." Even with the first person singular of the credo, the set text and the corporate recitation of the text give a corporate aspect.

Although Pelikan made a career out of doctrine and theology, he notes that doctrine is not the main function of the collected followers of Jesus. Christians serve mankind, worship God, work to improve this world, and anticipate the joys of the next world: none of those functions are doctrinal. Yet all of those functions are informed by doctrine. Christians serve mankind, being instructed to do so by their doctrine; and the ways in which they serve mankind are shaped by doctrine: Christians must show charity to all people impartially. Christians worship God, identifying Him by their doctrine and praising His properties as those properties are set forth in doctrine. Christians work to improve this world, guided by peculiarly Christian doctrines which value peace over war, which value every human life, and which value each individual and his freedom - even if that individual opposes Christianity and uses his freedom to do so. Christians anticipate the joys of the next world, knowing by means of their doctrine that such joys are an utterly unearned and unmerited gift bestowed by a loving and gracious God.

Doctrine may not be eternal. Once this world has passed, we will have no need of doctrine, for, as Paul writes,

Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

When we know perfectly and see perfectly - when we have an experience of the direct unmediated presence of God, an experience which in our present state we can neither imagine nor comprehend - doctrine will be superfluous and unneeded. Doctrine is provisional; it serves us as long as we are in this life. Once I have been brought to my destination, I no longer have need of the schedules and maps which showed me the route. Doctrine will end:

where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.

Despite its provisional nature, doctrine is important, because it shapes the church's ministries. Teaching doctrine is therefore a good and necessary task, not for its own sake, but in the service of the larger nature of Christ's corporate body on earth. Pelikan writes:

What the Church of Jesus Christ believes, teaches and confesses on the basis of the word of God: this is Christian doctrine. Doctrine is not the only, not even the primary, activity of the church. The church worships God and serves mankind, it works for the transformation of this world and awaits the consummation of its hope in the next. 'Faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love" - love, and not faith - and certainly not doctrine. The church is always more than a school; not even the age of Enlightenment managed to restrict or reduce it to its teaching function. But the church can not be less than a school. Its faith, hope and love all express themselves in teaching and confession. Liturgy is distinguished from ceremonial by a content that is declared in the Credo; polity transcends organization because of the way the church defines itself and its structure in its dogma; preaching is set apart from other rhetoric by its proclamation of the word of God; biblical exegesis avoids antiquarianism because it is intent on discovering what the text teaches, and not merely what it taught. The Christian church would not be the church as we know it without Christian doctrine.

Its corporate nature is one thing, among several, which makes doctrine what it is. Theology can be the work of an individual: the history of Christian thought illustrates this. But doctrine is the collective expression of those who follow Jesus. Jaroslav Pelikan has done well to bring this to our attention.